


open your heart

by moon_hotel



Category: Metal Slug (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hotel/pseuds/moon_hotel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allen cheats death over and over. Morden fears it's too good to be true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	open your heart

The first time Morden's defeated, he drags himself away from the battlefield with his tail between his legs. He picks up a walking stick along the way to prop him up, a fallen branch that he leans on as he travels.  
  
He makes his way back over the hills and roads, and soon he's passing through Kathehirt Valley. He practically sleepwalks through the destruction, only barely noticing the wrecked Slugs and the bodies face down in the dirt.  
  
Allen had been in charge of defending this place.  
  
Morden pauses at the top of the pass, leaning heavily on the branch as he feels his boots drag in the mud. Allen was his best man, his most loyal soldier, his most trusted and valuable confidante. He won't be easily replaced.  
  
Morden rubs at his eye, his head starting to throb. A memory rises to the surface:  
  
  
 _"Soon," Donald Morden said, staring out the window to someplace far away. "I'm going to leave the Regular forces. And I'm going to take them down with me."_  
  
 _Allen didn't move._  
  
 _"I wanted you to know," Morden continued, and he turned until he couldn't see his friend in the corner of his eye. "You should get out while you can. Take your family somewhere safe."_  
  
 _No response._  
  
 _"Allen?" Morden said, glancing over his shoulder. "Did you hear me?"_  
  
 _"I did," Allen responds, in his low rumble of a voice. "I'm coming with you."_  
  
 _"You shouldn't."_  
  
 _"I want to," he insists, and he takes a step forward. "I want to follow you."_  
  
  
Morden groans and leans heavily on his walking stick, and he hears the sickening _crack_ as it snaps in two under his weight. He tumbles to the ground, sinking into the mud a little bit, and he coughs and pants as he tries to pull himself back up.  
  
All of a sudden a groan rises up from somewhere close, and he turns to see Allen's body, half-hidden in the undergrowth. Morden stares, and at the second hoarse, pained moan, he scrambles over and pulls him into the sun.  
  
"Allen," he says, shaking him a little. "Can you hear me? For God's sake, say something!"  
  
The sergeant blinks, narrowing his eyes and peering into Morden's face. "General," he says slowly. "You're alive."  
  
"So are you!" Morden exclaims. "Christ, I thought you were done for! The Falcons said they'd killed you!"  
  
Allen lets out a snort, and Morden watches as a smile slowly spreads across his face. "Amateurs."  
  
  
  
The second time, Morden holds a military funeral with the remains of his troops. _I can't believe it,_  he thinks to himself, holding his hand over his heart as he stares into the water. _He survives certain death only to be eaten by a whale? What the hell kind of joke is that?_  
  
He turns to one of his soldiers. "Have you told his family?"  
  
"Not yet, sir," he sighs. "I was about to wire them."  
  
"No, no," Morden says, waving it away. "I'll tell them myself. They're good people and they've supported us well. It's the least I can do."  
  
Morden gives one last look at the ocean where Allen fell. As he turns to leave, he hears someone else call out in a shaky voice. "Um, General Morden?" the soldier says. "I…I think he's coming back!"  
  
"What?" Morden whips around and grabs the railing, leaning over the edge to see something bubble up from the depths. "That can't be possible! You said that damned whale spat out his bones!"  
  
"I thought it did, sir!" squeals the private, and at this point everyone's starting to panic. "M-maybe it was something else's bones!"  
  
Something big, something man-shaped floats upwards, and Morden stops gawking long enough to yell at his troops. "What are you standing around for, you useless wastes of space?!" he demands. "Get a rope! It takes more than a killer whale to stop Sergeant O'Neill!"  
  
As the rope hits the water, Allen's hand bursts up to break the surface, catching it tight in his fist. The soldiers pull him up with a _heave-ho, heave-ho!_ and as Allen grabs the railing and hefts himself up over it, the entire Rebel Army bursts into cheers.  
  
"Welcome back, Sergeant," Morden says, grabbing his hand. Allen only grins.  
  
  
  
He isn't around to see Allen's third death and resurrection, but he hears about it later. "Yeah, the Falcons did him in, but he came back later and was fighting right alongside them!" one of the other soldiers says, recounting the story with stars in his eyes. "You should have seen it, General sir! It was amazing!"  
  
"Well, I'll allow it," Morden chuckles. Now that he's free from the Mars Peoples' clutches, he's back in his proper uniform and stuffing himself with food. "Allen, even though I'm sure that counts as treason, you're hereby pardoned." He waves his hand with the grace of a pope, and Allen sarcastically bows.  
  
"Well, it was worth it," O'Neill laughs, pulling a drumstick off a roast chicken like it was made of paper. "Slaughtering wave after wave of Marco Rossis…now that's my idea of a good time!"  
  
"I'll drink to that!" Morden says, and everyone raises their glasses. "Cheers!"  
  
  
  
Things get blurry from then on. Everything tends to blend together, all the campaigns, all the aliens, all the weirdness with the Amadeus Syndicate and the Ptolemaic Army. Through it all, there are only three constants: the Peregrine Falcons (and the Sparrows), Morden, and Allen himself.  
  
Eventually, they're pushed back to Garbage Island, where Morden makes his base. It becomes more of a home, after a while, as they get used to growing their own food and using the hidden tunnels and ancient ruins as their own.  
  
One day, when there's nothing going on and they're eating together late at night, Morden finally asks Allen about it.  
  
"So," he ventures carefully, "what's the deal with this whole 'coming back from the dead' thing?"  
  
Allen's busy shoving ramen noodles into his mouth and it takes a moment for him to answer. "Deal?" he grunts, shoving his chopsticks in the soup and stirring it around. His friend tries not to chuckle at the image of such a big guy bending over a tiny pair of chopsticks.  
  
"Well, the…the whole thing where you can't stay dead," Morden says, scooting a little closer. Part of him feels that he shouldn't pry, but damn it, he's _curious._ "Do you remember anything?"  
  
Allen falls quiet, and for a moment Morden's worried he's said something wrong. "Well," he answers slowly, his voice low and deep. "You ever been in a car accident?"  
  
Morden's never been in a car accident, but he's been in a terrorist bombing and that's probably close enough. Still, he shakes his head no.  
  
"I know someone who was," Allen goes on. "And she said she saw someplace full of light, and it felt really pleasant, but something tugged at her chest and pulled her out like she wasn't supposed to be there. Then she woke up in the hospital."  
  
"Is it like that for you?"  
  
"No, that's the thing," Allen says. "No light at the end of the tunnel or nothin'. I just see black and then I think, _shit, again? I can't be here! I've got places to be,_ and then I'm back."  
  
Morden sits back and laughs. "It's that easy then, huh?"  
  
"Well…" Allen sounds a little embarrassed now. "Not really. I do a lot more thinking than that," the sergeant admits. "About Sara, and Junior, and how I can't leave 'em alone without me, not yet."  
  
Sara is his wife. Allen Jr., already over twenty years old and just as barrel-chested as Allen himself, is his son.  
  
"Sorry," Allen says. "Pretty wishy-washy answer."  
  
"No," Morden replies, trying to figure out what's weighing down his heart. "It's fine."  
  
  
  
It's a few weeks later, after their latest defeat. Morden and Allen are in the mountains, yelling at each other, trying to make their voices heard above the storm.  
  
"For God's sake, Allen, go home!" Morden howls. He's got his coat pulled tight around himself and he's leaning against the cliffside, clinging to it. "It's over! It's done!"  
  
Allen's not wearing a shirt, but somehow he doesn't even shiver as he tromps up the mountain after him.   
  
"I'm not going to tell you again!" Morden yells at him. He stumbles a little, his boots sinking into the snow. "Get the hell out of here!"  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Allen says in response, his voice a low quake that reaches right up into Morden's bones. "The troops are still down at camp. They're waiting for us."  
  
"Then they're idiots!" the general spits. "And they're disobeying a direct order from their commanding officer!"  
  
Allen doesn't respond. Morden turns and clambers his way up through the storm, groping with his gloved hands along the side of the mountain until it dips into a deep cave in the rock. He ducks inside and Allen catches up with him there, finding him shivering and cursing in front of a fire.  
  
"General," Allen pants. He sits down by the fire, across from Morden, and he looks bright red, like he's been sweating under the sun. "You can't do this."  
  
"Of course I can," Morden growls. "I can do anything I want. And I'm _ordering you_ to leave me alone and to tell the rest of those fools they can stop wasting their time."  
  
Allen looks as if he's about to respond, but he suddenly leans over, his palms flat on the ground, and he heaves as a shiver works its way through his huge body. It takes him a moment to catch his breath, and Morden has to force himself not to rush over to him and drape his coat around his shoulders.  
  
"General Morden," Allen says, finally, "We can't stay out here. You're half-dead."  
  
"Speak for yourself!" Morden snaps, and at this point he's just being cruel and he knows it, but he can't do this any other way. "Either you march right back down this mountain or you die in this cave, Allen, and I don't particularly care which!"  
  
If the words hit their target, Allen doesn't show it. Instead, he pulls closer to the fire, and he waits.  
  
The storm howls outside, but the warmth of the fire fills the cave. Morden stops shivering, and slowly he starts to relax, like a wound spring uncoiling bit by bit.  
  
"I told you," he starts again. "Leave me."  
  
"No," Allen says flatly. "I'm staying with you."  
  
"Why?" Morden groans. "Why the _hell_ are you wasting your time on this landfill? Go home," he repeats. "Go back to your family. They need you a hell of a lot more than I do."   
  
He doesn't mean it the way it sounds, but Allen looks him in the eye with a long stare that the general can't read. "Why are you doing this?" he asks again, and this time it's a different question entirely.  
  
Morden breaks his gaze and looks into the fire instead.   
  
"Listen," he explains. "If your wife and son are that important that you keep coming back for 'em, then what the hell are we doing out here? What the hell am I doing keeping you on a god damn _landfill,_ " he goes on, gesturing to everything around him, "when you could die here like a rat? What if this is that one time it actually takes?"  
  
Morden lets out a long, shuddering sigh. "Whatever it is, it can't last forever, Allen."  
  
Allen shifts his great body, turning towards the fire. "Is that it?" he intones. "Is that what this is all about?"  
  
Morden nods.  
  
"It's not just about them," Allen explains, and his voice, normally steady, is starting to shake around the edges. Morden is nothing if not stubborn, and he bites his lip so hard it hurts. "It's about the army. And it's about you."  
  
Allen looks up at Morden again. "I want to follow you."  
  
  
  
 _"I'm sorry this has to happen," Morden apologized. "I want you to be safe. And your son…"_  
  
 _He can't even finish his sentence. His own son hasn't been dead for a year yet and the memories still stop him in his tracks._  
  
 _Sara looks into her tea, then up at Morden's face. Allen is in the other room, playing with their child, and they can hear him laughing faintly._  
  
 _"Please," she says. "If there's anything I can do to help, please. Tell me."_  
  
 _Morden shifts in his seat uncomfortably. He can interrogate with the best of them, but Sara's sincere and honest eyes pin him to the spot._  
  
 _"He's completely devoted to you," she continues. "He's so happy whenever he talks about you." She looks over her shoulder, smiling. "And it makes me happy, too. I know it'll be hard, having him gone for so long. But we're just as strong as he is, in our own way."_  
  
 _She looks at him again, and her mind is so clear and sharp that Morden is almost scared._  
  
 _"Take care of him," she says. "That's all I ask."_  
  
  
  
Morden holds it in for a whole second before he starts to bawl, burying his face in his sleeve. "I'm sorry!" he wails, and it's not the first time he's started crying like a baby in front of Allen, but it still makes him feel like a coward. "I'm sorry, Allen, I'm sorry…"  
  
He slumps forward and Allen is there, his strong body propping him up, his thick arms digging into Morden's coat. "I know," he says, and his voice is strained too. "It's all right, sir. It's okay."  
  
Allen never calls him _Donald,_ or even just _Morden,_  though they've been friends for twenty years. He always says _General_ or _sir_ or even _boss_ when he's happy, and thinking about it makes Morden cry harder. "I'm an idiot," Morden sobs. "I'm such an idiot, Allen."  
  
Allen helps him down to the base of the mountain, a strong arm wrapped around Morden's shoulders. He's only a few inches taller than the general, but Morden shrinks against him, clinging close with his head to Allen's chest.  
  
As they enter camp, the soldiers quietly part to let them through. Two people in their own world, noticing nothing except each other. 


End file.
